Eight Lights, Eight Creeds, Eight Deaths
by Jysrin
Summary: Of all the things Gentek was good at, having any modicum of common sense wasn't one. Why else would they have had so many facilities working on genetically engineering new strains of Redlight? Disregards P2.
1. Prologue 1

My first foray into the world of videogame fanfiction. Let's hope I don't make _too _much of a fool of myself.

* * *

**_Eight Creeds..._**

_Infect and Change..._

_Feed and Thrive..._

_Spread and Augment..._

_Absorb and Assimilate..._

_Build and Support..._

_Shift and Replace..._

_Destroy and Rebuild..._

_Catch and Break..._

**_Bound to One Rule..._**

_Grow... and Adapt..._

**_Eight Lights..._**

_Red, the Progenitor_

_Orange, the Speedster_

_Yellow, the Family_

_Green, the Adaptor_

_Blue, the Architect_

_Violet, the Psychic_

_Black, the King_

_And White, the Traitor_

* * *

You didn't really think the seeds of hatred and death stopped with you and Hope, did you Dr. Mercer?

Well, you were wrong. Welcome to the Apocalypse, America. Here come the Lights of Destruction.


	2. Prologue 2

Technically Chapter One, but whatever.

* * *

_4/12/2008_

_If you are reading this, then it means the worst has come to pass._

_My name is Doctor Jonathan Y. Lee, and this is my story._

_It all started the day I began working in a secure Gentek facility in the middle of the Mojave Desert; the day I learned of the virus we call Redlight._

_Me? I was assigned to head a project known as Greenlight, we were told it would cure AIDs, cancer, HIV, anything and everything._

_It was the truth, but not the one that was stated by the higher ups._

_The truth of the matter is, like Blacklight in Manhattan, we were making a virus to combat specific racial types, on the off chance that any of the other facilities might fail._

_Greenlight, by the eyes of Gentek, was a complete failure. Why? The only way it could infect anything was if it was either dead, or it was directly injected into the bloodstream. Even then, nothing would happen; usually._

_But, I began to smell something a bit off; why would this massive company tell us to make a nearly benign virus as deadly as possible? It already did nothing but boost the afflicted subjects' immune systems._

_So, I began working in secret, contacting the as many of the other stations as I could. Turns out, we all thought something was fishy._

_So the five of us decided, if things go south, we'd all rendezvous under fake identities and get the hell out of the country. _

_And things went to hell._

_I had adjusted Greenlight with all the subtlety of a jackhammer on nitroglycerin. The DNA of it was already highly adaptable, somehow I just made it more so. _

_Without fully understanding the effects, I injected myself with a sample, destroyed as many of the rest as I could, and kept an extra vial as insurance; the stuff was basically an instant regenerator under the right conditions. And I left._

_Too bad they found me._

_Too bad they shot the vial of Greenlight in my breast pocket._

_Too bad that I ended up turning into what we now call the Embodiment of Greenlight._

_Those poor soldiers never stood a damn chance._

* * *

_4/15/2008_

_The very nature of Greenlight is summed up in the Creed found floating in the back of the Green section of the Light Virus Hivemind._

_Absorb and Assimilate_

_What this means for me, is that, since all the Light Viruses work off the basic principle of Grow and Adapt, using the absorbed biomass of any creature I consume, I gain the ability to evolve new traits, not from scratch, but a pre-existing template._

_Redlight is... pathetic in the way it handles water._

_Five minutes, and a test tube full of stagnant, disease ridden water later, I adapted Greenlight into a virus that thrived where Redlight died._

_A crow and some pigeons later, and I found myself with some nice, though not very useful, wings._

_Then I consumed everything living within the nearest zoo and aquarium. And then I started to mix and match._

_The beauty of Greenlight isn't in its destructive potential- which it ranks fifth out of its eight 'siblings', nor its infection rate- seventh, but its sheer adaptability; of which it ranks first, surpassing even Blacklight._

_After all, it's better to work with a pre-existing template than from scratch. And Greenlight got a lot of templates over the span of three days._

* * *

_4/30/2008_

_After having some time to test my new abilities, I have learned these things:_

_\- I am capable of consuming any form of organic matter as long as it can be safely digested by one of the various templates locked away in Greenlight's DNA._

_\- I am capable of reducing myself into nothing more than a quickly moving blob of viral sludge; extremely useful for breaking and entering... And quick escapes._

_\- I am capable of shapeshifting into anything that I have consumed and recorded, even going so far as to shapeshift into species I have not consumed, but still share the same base template. This explains how I turned into an albatross when the only thing close to that that I'd eaten was a seagull._

_\- I have superhuman strength, speed, durability, and senses; the exact limits I have not yet found._

_\- I am capable of absorbing other virus templates, this was learned after I accidentally consumed some of the samples of Redlight I had on me when I went back to scour the remnants of my workplace. This is also how I gained access to the Hivemind._

_More to come later._

* * *

"Oh I hope I'm not making a mistake with this. Too late now, better go meet up with the others. Blackwatch is coming, and I don't want them to find me alive and mostly well."


	3. Chapter 1: Red

_**RED**_

* * *

Of all the things that PARIAH was, mentally deficient was not one of them. And so, at the ripe old age of ten-going-on-thirty, he escaped his confinement in Blackwatch's main facility, and made himself a new life, trying to learn as much as he could about the world of humanity.

Of course, some thirty-odd years of experimentation and verbal abuse do not a well adjusted person make, so he took it upon himself to learn. And learn he did.

* * *

Pariah was smart, none could deny it. Pariah was dangerous. And Pariah was also very, _very _sneaky.

How so? He escaped confinement by covering his cell's security cameras in a film of biomass, formed a doppelganger utilizing his superior control over Redlight, and stole the identity of a generic Blackwatch soldier.

Upon escaping the confines of the base, he promptly absorbed and disguised himself as a wandering hobo, then continued to move around, changing his disguises every so often.

* * *

Skip forward some few years to the year 2000, and Parker Gramont is a semi-successful chemist working for a fairly large pharmaceutical company, recently established some five years prior.

He can still hear his mother through the Hivemind.

He writes it off, not caring for his mother's agenda, after all, he has a job, a life, and people who don't make him want to slaughter all of humanity.

Football is much more fun to watch when with... friends. And with living players.

He still prefers not to let other people in his house, though. After all, he doesn't want his neighbors to find either his semi-classified company files, or his secret stash of extra biomass.

Both would be incredibly costly to replace and/or hide.

* * *

Some eight years of relative peace and quiet later, Pariah woke up one morning feeling decidedly _off_. Not sick, because how does one infect the most infectious virus in the history of mankind? But rather, a bit _more_ than usual, as if he was already a whole being and then someone had just decided to randomly glue on more parts, different parts too.

"What's this? Mother, quiet down, I need to _think_."

Greene only cooed over the connection to the Hivemind, mumbling something about her 'beautiful son'.

"Yes yes, Mother. Now... this is unexpected."

Said unexpected occurrence was the heretofore nonexistent expansion to the Hivemind, creating a whole new area in the Hivemind, like an unexpected new living room inside a previously there house.

"Who... no, what. What are you? The Blue to my Red? What's that even mean? What are you and how did you get into my Hivemind!?"

_"Born of Red, Man made Blue...six more rise... be wary Brother/Father... sixth will betray us... sixth is death. Sixth is born of Black, Man made White. Kill the sixth."_

"That tells me nothing! Dammit, who are you!?"

_"No energy... the third rises soon..."_

"_WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT!?_"

There was no answer from the new presence, now revealed to be Bluelight. Pariah stood there for a moment, seething within the privacy of his home, before deciding to put the cryptic message out of his mind; he had to work early tomorrow, and sleep, though unnecessary, was too pleasant to give up even a few minutes of it.

With said message out of his mind, Parker slipped into bed, falling into his normal dreamless sleep soon after.

* * *

One by one, the pieces fall into place. But as they fall, one must wonder: Who is the hand that guides them to their final resting place?


	4. Chapter 2: Orange

_**Orange**_

* * *

Doctor Alana Romanova* was, in a word, a bit... strange, to say the least.

For one, even under her HazMat gear, she always wore her black labcoat, which at times resembled more of a swishing cloak of death threats.

Another thing was her attitude.

"Good Mor-_ning_~ everyone! Ready to get back to work?"

She was an extremely bubbly personality; only tempered by her cold, calculating scientific rationality.

She was also unfortunately _extremely_ quick to anger.

"Who left these samples out all night!? When I find the asshole who did this I'm going to kick them in the dick!"

_"Shitshitshitshitshit"_

"There you are~"

"SHIT!"

"YOU IDIOT!"

"AAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

Every male within earshot winced and grabbed their groins in sympathetic pain.

* * *

Her pale blonde hair was the first thing anyone noticed about her. The next was her all-concealing labcoat of death. Third were her decidedly non-standard issue black, wedge-heeled, steel toed combat boots (With lace trim).

Oh, and her stereotypically large, Russian born chest. But in a facility full of asexual scientists, those only got in the way.

And distracted the guards.

This is important to remember, as this was the exact method she used to slip past the guards one fateful night in the middle of April.

* * *

Alana was nervous; understandable, given that she was about to do something very _very_ stupid: Steal a vial of the idiotically named Orangelight virus and get to the pre-agreed upon rendezvous point somewhere in the middle of Rhode Island, the only state in which there was virtually no Blackwatch presence whatsoever. She had it lucky, she was only a few states away in Maine. The others, well, she knew the head of Greenlight was in the Mohave, Bluelight was somewhere in the Rockies, Yellowlight was in Florida, Violetlight in Montana, and Blacklight was in Manhattan.

The Russian born geneticist glanced at her watch and nodded; almost time to head home for the night. Five minutes and counting.

Quickly, while no one else was looking, she pressed a single key on her laptop, disabling the security cameras just barely long enough for her to switch out one of the test tubes of virus with a similar looking tube full of a low-grade explosive compound. Three minutes.

Packing quickly, she stood to leave, walking to the door as if everything was normal. Sliding in her ID card, she waited for the lift to take her back to the surface of the facility. Unfortunately, as the doors opened, a contingent of Blackwatch guards stood within the lift. Near panicking, she stammered,

"I-I'll just wait for the next lift."

The leader spoke, "No need ma'am, if you'd please return to the work area?"

"B-but my shift's over."

"That wasn't a request."

"Y-yessir."

Moving back to her chair, Alana inwardly panicked, wondering exactly what the soldiers were doing on this level.

"Ladies and gentlemen; Gentek would like to thank you for all your hard work. However, Gentek has also decided that your work is no longer necessary, and work must now be terminated. Boys, if you would?"

_'Oh... shit'_

And then the soldiers opened fire.

Amidst the screams of pain and the shattering glass, Alana managed to uncork her single remaining vial and, in an extremely desperate ploy, down half the vial before she was shot full of holes, the vial in her hand shattering, slicing into her hand and spraying Orangelight all over the wounds on her near-corpse.  
With a last gasp, Alana succumbed to the piercing pain of bullet wounds and the curious new burning in her stomach.

* * *

After the last round fired, one of the soldiers stepped over to where Alana laid, pausing to give her a once over.

"Tch, what a shame. Woulda loved to have gone a few rounds with this one. Look at the size of her tits!"

Kneeling, the soldier began examining the corpse, "Hey, she's still pretty good lookin', still warm, sorta breathin'. Still kinda got a pulse. Could probably use this bitch for a little bit, if y' don't mind all the blood n' all."

"You're disgusting, Randall."

Unnoticed by the soldiers, Alana's eyes were now open, their once ice-blue coloring now an intense, burning orange.

_'Hungry... so... hungry... must...FEED'_

"Look Hal, all I'm sayin' is this bitch's too pretty to waste, you don't wanna bang 'er, fine with me. Just don- AARGH!"

Half conscious and nearly mad with her intense hunger, Alana _exploded _into a mass of fleshy, black-and-orange tentacles, spearing through the nearest soldiers and consuming them nigh instantly, her body reforming momentarily after, only for her to pounce at the nearest soldier, ignoring any and all damage taken in favor of consuming more and more.

Only after the last soldier was consumed did Alana stop, her mind finally returning to her.

_'Oh god, what was that!? What did I do!?'  
_

"Ohshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshit What the hell was that!"

As she panicked, Alana kept moving, realizing that being the only one standing in a bullet-ridden, corpse-and-blood filled lab would be possibly the worst thing to do at the moment. Leaving the facility, much to the bewilderment of the guards- easily swayed by a bit of generous flirting as usual, she made her way over to the nearest transit station, planning on stealthily making her way to Rhode Island via secret getaway car stashed somewhere south of Gentek's main Maine facility**. Of course, getting there without any additional problems was easier said than done, now that she knew someone had a reason to kill her.

_"Crap, someone's definitely going to have noticed that those soldiers never reported back. I only hope I managed to get out of there before the cams picked back up. Fuck me, I need a goddamn drink."_

Whispering to herself so as to not draw any more attention to herself, Alana first made her way to a hidden dumpster, preparing herself to part with her single most defining feature: her prized labcoat.

"Oh man, I don't wanna have to do this, but I gotta. I'm so sorry baby, but mama's gotta leave you behind..."

Attempting to pull off her coat, Alana nearly screamed when her coat dissolved into a seething mass of fleshy tendrils and reformed around her.

"W-what the fuck!? Okay, okay, calm down... analyze the situation... okay... one: my coat reformed around me without even a conscious thought. Two: what ever the fuck those tendrils are, they look like they're either attached to something I'm wearing or myself. I sure hope they're mine. Well, what if I tried to change my clothes?"

Focusing on changing her image, Alana willed herself to do something, _anything. _And with a rush of tendrils sweeping over her form, she found herself in the form of one of the soldiers she had eaten, Hal if she was correct.

"Freaky. Okay... what if... what if I did this?"

Another rush of tendrils and Alana was now the only female soldier in the platoon, apparently named Mila, dressed in a wife-beater and a pair of trousers, a mix of both women's wardrobes for the day.

"Much better."

And so, Alana made her way south, walking for hours until she reached her car; which was, in fact only about twenty miles*** from the facility.

It surprised her how she wasn't tired after walking some twenty miles without rest.

"Okay... just... just gotta get the hell outta Maine, and into Rhode Island. Simple, yeah? Oh wait, shit; where's my wallet!?"

Frantically searching for her apparently lost wallet, Alana was unprepared for it to suddenly appear out of her pocket with another blur of tendrils; along with its reappearance came the disappearance of the slight sense of discomfort in her leg.

"That's... useful...? At least I can pay for gas now..."

Putting it out of her mind, she started her car and seamlessly blended into traffic, already steeling herself for the long and nerve-wracking journey that was sure to come.

* * *

More pieces fall. The story moves forward. What becomes of the pieces remains shrouded in shadows.

* * *

*I honestly just chose the first Russian sounding name that popped into my head. If someone has a better idea for her name, I'll use that if you give me a good enough reason.

**I don't know, but that sounded funny in my head.

***Approximately 6-7 hours based on the average walking speed of a human being; 3.1 mph.


	5. Chapter 3: Yellow

_**Yellow**_

* * *

_'Craaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa-' _"-Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa- OH SHIT!"

Dodging various forms of fire, former head of the Yellowlight program, Daphne Blayne couldn't help but break her normally stoic demeanor to indulge in some well deserved cursing.

"Shit shit shit! Piss off you wankers! Fuck! Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh! Oh fuck!"

As an explosion knocked her off of her feet and into the river far below the bridge she had attempted to cross, Daphne couldn't help but ruminate on the circumstances that had brought her to this point.

* * *

_Two hours ago, 4/25/2008  
_

Daphne Blayne was, by necessity, a very difficult woman to fool. This being said, it should have been no surprise to her that Gentek had been planning something... less than savory.

When she had been offered to come overseas to work for Gentek, it had almost seemed too good to be true. Turns out, it was.

She was a bloody good geneticist, dammit; not some sort of bio-weapons engineer!

So when she had been contacted by some of the other Gentek research labs, she knew it was time to bugger the fuck out. And fast.

The virus she'd been working on was supposed to have been some sort of super-soldier serum; and it worked, too. Too well. Most people couldn't handle the virus and tore them selves apart -literally- when their super-charged immune systems attempted to tear apart the viral cells and confused their own cells as infection.

Useless, really.

Of course, one did have to wonder exactly why a medicine company was researching a super soldier virus in the first place. Turns out, the medicine company was just a front for something called Blackwatch.

Armed with this knowledge and the combined intelligence of her peers, Daphne was assigned this date to escape Florida and get to Rhode Island.

* * *

Daphne was a relatively small woman, about five feet six inches tall. This did not help her escape in the slightest, given that she had nearly no intimidation potential; being a rather mousy and plain looking person does that.

What _did _help was her rather decent ability in the field of parkour; a field she had entered as a hobby and exercise regime when she was fifteen.

Unfortunately, decent doesn't help you when you're thrown off of a bridge and onto a walkway some fifty feet below while being shot full of bullets.

Then you need a miracle.

Surviving the impact was not the miracle. Shattering the vial of Yellowlight was not the miracle. What _was _the miracle was the fact that her immune system had basically disappeared once she had hit the ground and the virus had managed to infect her without any resistance.

This had several effects, none of them good for the Blackwatch soldiers above on the bridge.

One: Daphne gained a supercharged physical status, enabling her to dwarf even Alex Mercer's Monstrous Strength™. Not that she knew who Mercer was at this point.

Two: Daphne gained the ability to use her own spare biomass to form attack drones. What does this mean? Imagine the Zerg, except instead of being monstrous beings from beyond the stars, it was a portable army of monstrous beings created from the general. This is important. Remember this.

Three:Daphne became incredibly enraged and bloodthirsty. This is bad for everyone. Especially the soldiers.

Launching herself from her prone position on the ground, the recently Infected Brit performed a neatly executed triple backflip plus 1440º spin only to land boots first on one soldier's face, breaking his neck and driving him to the ground in a flash of gold-tinged fleshy black tentacles.

Much to the shock of every soldier still living, their recently dead comrade disappeared, the only trace of his existence being his dropped weapon and a massive bloodstain.

"Holy shit... HOLY SHIT! KILL THE BITCH!"

Ignoring the gunfire, Daphne proceeded to kill and consume several more soldiers, then stopped suddenly, right in the middle the largest clump of still living soldiers; all of them nervously pointing their guns but not firing- none of them wanted to be the first to die.

With a sibilant hiss, Daphne said her first words since being thrown off the bridge, "_All troops... move out"_

A moment of silence.

Then Daphne exploded into a mass of wriggling flesh, bulging all over with tumorous growths and spike tipped tentacles. As the blob of flesh writhed, it inexplicably grew, some tumors faster than others, until they detached and formed bodies... the bodies of the fallen soldiers. As the bodies formed, they began moving, dashing forward at supernatural speeds and tearing flesh from bone. As each living soldier was messily torn to pieces, their bodies were thrown towards the still writhing pile of biomass, fueling it and creating even more soldiers until the last one died.

Silence.

The infected soldiers returned to the flesh-mound, dissolving once they made contact. Once all of them had been reabsorbed, the quivering mound of flesh shrank into itself and became a horrified and confused Daphne- the revulsion didn't last, though the confusion did.

"I-wha? The fuck was that? What the bloody fuck was that!?"

_"Oh god oh god oh god oh god what the fuck"_

Daphne was spared from any more introspection by the sound of more Blackwatch goons approaching. Cursing to herself, she ran, crossing the bridge into potential freedom.

"Shit shit shit shit shit"

* * *

Pieces falling, plans unfurling, this is starting to sound like a bad fantasy novel.


	6. Chapter 4: Green

**Green**

* * *

_5/14/2008 Somewhere in Brazil  
_

Camping in the Amazon Rainforest, Jonathan reflected, sucked, as a lesser man would say, _major ass._ Why? It wasn't the heat. It wasn't the humidity. No, it was the amount of biting insects that never _goddamn stopped._

"_Hao ma fan*..._ Thank the fucking lord that I'm immune to these damn insects... thank Greenlight that I can actually get some useful information out of them... Still annoying as fuck though."

Still, he considered, it was better than the alternative; that being dead in a morgue in some Gentek research facility. Packing his meager effects, Jonathan trudged deeper into the Amazon, his biomass continually being assaulted and absorbing the pesky insects that continued to plague him.

_'I should probably get back to America, bet the others are already at the safehouse.'_

Continuing his trek, Jonathan marched steadily north, taking no detours in his chosen path; melding around trees, walking through rivers, flying over mountains.

"Ptew! Ach, piranha taste like shit!"

* * *

_5/23/2008 Somewhere in Florida, around West Palm Beach  
_

Finally reaching the very southern tip of Florida after his several hundred mile long flight over ocean and various islands, Jonathan made his way inland, noting that one of his colleagues had recently left the state barely one month before.

_'Maybe I shouldn't have spent so long trying to make new gene combos... nah, it was worth it.'_

As he made his way north, he unknowingly made his way past a few _very _interested observers, all three unassuming, but able and willing to kill at a moment's notice.

If you couldn't figure it out, these were Blackwatch Assassins. And they had just seen a man fly out of nowhere and walk past their position.

_"Command, this is Blackwatch Team 36; we're either hallucinating or we just found something worth a second look. Either way, we've tagged a target. Over"_

_"Blackwatch Team 36, you have a go ahead. Please proceed with caution. And this time, don't blow up a public landmark. Over."  
_

_"Haha, screw you too, Cal. Screw you too. Over"  
_

We'll just leave them to their bickering, shall we?

* * *

_Five miles North, Jonathan's location_

"Shit, I'm hungry... No no, it's bad form to consume other people in broad daylight." These were the words of a disgruntled former scientist who had not had a proper consuming of biomass for upwards of a week. And by proper, I mean having more biomass than a sea bird.

You know, those small ones. Like seagulls but less common in the USA.

No, he didn't eat any whales. Jonathan still respects the near endangered status of whales, being a former supporter if Greenpeace and all.

Okay, he ate some dolphins earlier, but only because they were harassing a shark.

He ate the shark too, if it's any consolation.

The walking viral mass suddenly stopped and sniffed the air, taking in the myriad of scents around him, some good- like that hotdog stand over there- some bad- oh _god_ what the hell kinda perfume _is _that!? Burning dogshit!?- and others just plain strange.

For instance, the smell of gunpowder and oil and kevlar fabric.

Jonathan cursed himself, he'd been spotted!

"_Shit! _Just what I need right now! Fuck... oh wait. This _is _what I need!"

And so, the barely infectious mass of disguised viral goo slipped into a convenient alleyway, unconsciously consuming the hapless mugger concealed within, and waited for his prey.

He didn't wait long.

From just outside the alley, Jonathan heard the chattering of a radio and the _click-click_ of guns cocking. He smiled, finally he'd be able to absorb more human biomass!

* * *

Blackwatch Team 36 was a small group, one of the smallest, in fact. But all of them worked _extremely _well together, and were capable of taking down larger teams fairly easily.

Of course, none were very good at destroying viral organisms like Jonathan Lee or Alex Mercer, but they had never needed to in the first place. And this simple fact doomed them.

It started like this:

First: Team 36 followed Jonathan into the alley, noticing the small splatter of blood on the ground.

Second: Jonathan had reverted to his ooze-form and had slithered behind them.

Third: The only female member of the group turned around and saw the wriggling mass of sickly green and black tendrils reform into their target.

Things quickly got out of hand.

And by the time the police had arrived, there was no trace of either Jonathan or Team 36, save for some spent bullet casings and a lot of blood.

Further north, now around the site of Daphne Blayne's escape, Jonathan chuckled to himself. Maybe the detour cost him some time, but at least he had some way to defend himself. And plus, it was nice not having to worry about stray bullets and the like.

* * *

When monsters roam in the daylight, good men must take to the shadows. But, there are monsters in the shadows as well. So really, where are the good men?

* * *

A/N: Uhh... I got nothing to say here.

*_Hao ma fan _In Chinese, this basically translates into "How troublesome"


	7. Chapter 5: Blue

**Blue**

* * *

_About a week ago*_

Among the many, many things wrong with the Bluelight facility in the middle of Fucking Nowhere, Rocky Mountains, was the complete lack of totally human presences. There was a rather large amount of infected beings wandering the halls, occasionally stopping to tear apart a slightly different looking Infected. The Bluelight virus had been released not a single hour after Dr. Blake Hunter had finalized his departure time, and had summarily infected every last human in the facility. Unfortunately, the infection had occurred in parts; different parts of the facility bearing slightly different forms of the Blue virus and thus forming different hives, some with more load bearing capacity, others with greater minion building capacity, consuming each other until only three super hives remained, one with the greatest defense, one with much higher offensive mutations, and the last with nothing but a very quick mutation speed.

This last hive was the slightly fractured consciousness of Dr. Hunter, who was quickly mutating as fast as possible in order to compress his unwieldy bulk into the much more desirable form of a Runner, so as to have more of a chance of consuming the other hives for the energy necessary to pull himself fully back together.

* * *

_Six Weeks Ago  
_

Bluelight was a very strange virus, even compared to its brethren. Bluelight had little need for the physical augmentation of Yellowlight or the consumption rate of Orange, the various strains of Redlight, the adaptability of Greenlight, or even the connectivity of Violetlight. It didn't even need the sheer killing capacity of Blacklight.

No, Bluelight didn't need anything but a source of biomass and a few drones to carry out it's grand designs.

And how grand they were, given that Bluelight desired naught but to create the largest viral structures possible. Bluelight was unlike any of its brethren in that it was designed solely for a defensive role, as opposed to the rest of the Lights' offensive capabilities. Bluelight was a mobile storage container, capable of shuffling around its own biomass in order to provide its brethren with strategic openings and hiding places.

To that end, one of the pre-recorded designs stuck in its Hivemind was a design for a cannon. A cannon that would fire a shell of Bluelight containing a chunk of biomass for a different virus. Long range insertion and infiltration.

Bluelight was also the first of its siblings to finish completion- after Redlight, of course.

And thus, Bluelight sent a message across the twisted mess of shared genetics that it called a Hivemind, but given that its Hive was a fractured mess and parts of it were rebelling against others, the message was fractured and twisted beyond recognition.

And lo, a prophecy came into being from the twisted and corrupted signals sent out from a weakened and divided Blue hive.

* * *

_6/6/2008 (Now)_

Bluelight had, after six long weeks of constant consumption and conflict, had finally pulled itself together in the form of Dr. Blake Hunter, a decently respected geneticist from New Zealand, formerly employee of Gentek, and current embodiment of the architecturally inclined super-virus known as Bluelight.

Said doctor was currently very, _very _confused about his current state of being, since he distinctly recalled being absorbed by a shell-like mass of organic matter and becoming a single voice in a body that housed at least a hundred; even if, perhaps, the body wore his own face.

Deciding to put the matter out of his mind for now, the African American doctor noted the date and began his trek to Rhode Island, tunneling underground as he made his way across the country.

Bluelight aided in his tunneling, forming support struts to keep the tunnel from collapsing and allowing him the ability to reappear from virtually anywhere the supporting film of biomass led to. Unfortunately, Bluelight was about as ravenous as the rest of its brethren; perhaps more so due to it's proficiency in architectural pursuits.

People all over the nation would be understandably confused by the rash of sudden disappearances and the strange swath of missing trees that marred the surface of America. Of course, by the time anyone _found _anything, the tunnel had long since been collapsed and sealed behind Bluelight.

The man himself was unconcerned about all of this as he tunneled through the bedrock around him, stopping only to check his bearings. He had to reach Rhode Island, and he had to reach there _quickly_, before anyone found his traces.

* * *

Five colors in place, one color lost to the swarm of humanity, one yet to be born, the last naught but a fleeting thought in a man's brain.

* * *

*Don't you _dare _make that reference.


	8. Chapter 6: Violet

**Violet**

* * *

Up in Montana, a tower of strange spires drew attention for miles. Of course, given that nobody was _around _for miles, there was no attention to be drawn. These spires, ascending into the air like strange radio towers, gleamed like cut amethysts, glowing with internal power and streaking bursts of electricity between them. In total, the spires numbered thirteen in total, arranged in a rough pattern, the largest in the center, ringed by three lightning spewing towers, ringed by six glowing and pulsating towers, ringed by three more lightning spewing towers.

At the very summit of the center tower stood a young woman, clothed in the same purples and blacks that made up the spire and halfway melded into it. Her vibrant, violet eyes glowed in time to the tower's pulsing, the woman herself not seeing anything. Instead she was delving within herself and into the Hivemind, sending out signals periodically in hopes that she might gain the attentions of her compatriots.

Bengani Brastacara stood, taking in the ebbs and flows of the Hivemind currents, reading the information presented to her as if it were scrolling on a computer screen. The Indian woman had changed even more than the others had, she mused, for her once bronzed and smoothed skin was now ashen gray and streaked with veins filled with pulsing violet light.

But, she found, she couldn't really complain too much. After all, what was a minor cosmetic change when compared to the vast amounts of power she now wielded? Frowning as something vibrated deep within the accumulated biomass of Gentek's Montana research facility and three regiments of the worst sorts of Blackwatch soldiers, she drew the object forth, noting the date and time stamped upon it

_9/12/2008_

_9:15 a.m._

_"Get going, murkha!"_

She smiled to herself, finally she could meet up with the other five and compare stories!

"I think this will be a _very_ good journey, yes?" She spoke to no one, and yet her words rippled the air, touching the minds of every living being nearby and filling them with a primal fear.

The towers collapsed.

* * *

Bengani strode forth from the wreckage of Gentek's facility, all of the purple and black biomass disappearing from the land and coalescing into her body, shifting into a denser, though still agile, form. The Violetlight woman strode forth across the Montana landscape, grass withering in her wake and animals collapsing where they lay.

"Hmm... unintended side effects... perhaps...?"

She frowned, it wouldn't do if everything she passed died in her wake. True, it would be visually impressive, but it would also be _hell_ on subtlety.

Then again, she had grey skin. That tended to screw subtlety over like a burger with a fat man.

Pushing aside those thoughts for now, Bengani drew out her cellphone once again, tapping away on its screen until she found her music library. Slipping on her earbuds, she skipped gaily towards the general direction of Rhode Island, never noticing the twitching forms of the Blackwatch response team lying comatose in the bushes.

* * *

_A few hours prior_

As far as Blackwatch team 73 was concerned, the rest of Gentek's private army could take on this woman. They all had families, dammit!

Still, a job was a job, and the target standing still at the top of a tower was merely extra convenience. Never mind the arcs of lightning, dead animals, and weird, ominous glowing.

"Jones, got your rifle ready? We move out in five." One soldier tapped the team's primary sniper on the back, making sure that his rifle was indeed ready for the kill. Their position was a horrible one, given the fact that they were down in some bushes and their target was at the top of a one hundred foot tall tower.

John "E.T." Jones wasn't considered the best sniper in Gentek for nothing, though. He'd had to shoot from worse positions at far worse targets. The team's backup sniper, Bryce "Knight" Wynn, was almost as good. Hopefully only Jones would need to do anything, he thought to himself, shifting back under cover and loading his own rifle.

The remaining members of the strike force went as such: Shay "Eagle" Errol and Diana "Freedom" Kingston on demolitions, Chuck "Strongman" Kensington and Jon "Craftsman" Steward on heavy assault, and Walter "Speedy" Wessel on communications. The seven soldiers worked extremely well together, and as such, were always set together for missions.

Of course, they'd never had to do anything like this.

"Eight hundred hours. Time to move." Chuck commanded, readying his assault rifle as he spoke. "Eagle, Freedom, set the charges. You know where to go. Speedy establish a secure line to base. Knight, E.T., hold fire until my command. Craftsman, you're with me; we move into position then hold back until necessary. Ready?"

Six nods of agreement as all seven members replaced their helmets.

"Then _break!_"

Seven soldiers scattered around the towers, two planting shaped charges as they went, two sneaking into bushes for cover, two splitting to opposite sides of the towers, and the final one relaying info as he retreated to a safe distance.

An hour of setup later, and they were ready.

The towers fell and a terrifying presence spread across the land, instantly nullifying the seven deadly assassins.

_"Team 73! Report! Team 73! Dispatch, team 73 is down, send reinforcements."_

* * *

_Now_

Bengani made it to Lincoln without much further incident, even managing to keep her psychic presence from killing everything within a two hundred foot radius. Instead, she now merely terrified small animals and made humans nervous, though none could tell that it was her.

The formerly-Indian geneticist was now cloaked in a more conservative outfit; her previous one being nothing but her undergarments. Clad in all black and violet, the woman would have made a scene had she not stuck to the alleys and side streets.

As it was, she'd already nearly given six cats and two dogs severe heart attacks.

The rest of Montana passed with similar incident, though nothing serious. '_If there was ever a good thing about Montana',_ she mused,_ 'it'd be the fact that there's so much empty space around here.'_

* * *

Seven down, the eighth to come, and the ninth barely a passing thought. Things progress as normal.


End file.
